


All Hallows' Eve

by iamowedbetter



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe- Supernatural, F/M, Halloween fun, James is a werewolf, Malcolm is a vampire, Malcolm threatens Nicola, Nicola is a witch, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:19:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamowedbetter/pseuds/iamowedbetter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's All Hallows' Eve, and Nicola is wondering why Malcolm isn't out finding a few virgin necks to feed on. Malcolm, on the other hand, believes blood is like wine. The older it is, the better it tastes. And, of course, Nicola Murray is four hundred and twenty-seven. Perfect.<br/>'"You know, dear, on a hierarchy of power witches are far lower than vampires. As are werewolves. I'm superior to you, and you fuckin' know it. I can smell your fear, for fuck's sake. You're lower than your mother's pelvic fuckin' floor, that's how low you are."'</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a fantastic drabble found on tumblr. We do not take credit for the idea.  
> This also started out as a roleplay, so apologies from myself and parallellights. Just a bit of fun, to celebrate Halloween. And because vampire!Malcolm and witch!Nicola are bloody brilliant. I've rated this as mature for three reasons:  
> 1-It isn't finished. Anything could happen.  
> 2-You know Malcolm and Nicola? Two characters who swear on a regular basis? Yeah. Another reason.  
> 3-I don't know. You might dislike vampires and witches.  
> OH! And any mistakes will be looked at soon enough. It's hard to transfer a roleplay into a word document, make it appropriate for a fanfiction, and then upload it. Please bear with. Comments, however, are appreciated.

The echoing sound of Nicola's heels, overly-accented in their point in front of its toes, split through the darkness as she stepped through the open door into the shadow of the office.

Even with the light seeping in through the door behind her, it was difficult for her to make out the figure she had come to see without squinting her eyes and moving further into the room. The curtains had been drawn fully, blocking both the outside light of the street lamps and the noise of the scurrying, sweet-promised children, and the lamp fixed to the ceiling above them was as dull as it had ever been. The room was as cold as its owner, and completely silent, spare for the slumberous steps of Nicola's polished shoes, and it confused her as to why her intended host had not yet heard her manoeuvres. Stopping in the middle of the room, the man still not aware of her presence, she waited in the silence for a moment, before her fingertips snapped together and the gold crack which had erupted from them shot through the sky, lighting the lamp she had previously noted as her quiet giggle, or, more appropriately, cackle, shot through the silence.

“All Hallows’ Eve, Malcolm.” She began noting with a smirk, folding her arms as the still lively fingertips danced along her skin, “tonight of all nights, shouldn't you be out finding a few virgin necks to feed on?”

At the sudden light a grunt of annoyance left his thin lips. Fuckin' old cow. Malcolm, with his pale skin and quiet breathing, glanced up at the annoying _crone_ in his office.

“I'd be fuckin' lucky. Can't find those walkin' the streets anymore. Unless, of course, you're offering the services of one of your bloody children?”

His bony fingers grasped his glasses, pulling them from his face and placing them on the desk. A sigh of frustration, _hunger_ , was released into the room. “And what about _you_ , hag? Shouldn't you be out scaring young children on your fuckin' broomstick? Malcolm considered this for a moment, a smirk finally forming. “Or getting burned at the stake? Which, might I add, I would much prefer.”

“ _My_ kids?” Nicola snorted slightly, her nose wrinkling a little at his suggestion of her aims. It was a ridiculously unreasonable suggestion, never mind about a highly inappropriate one. One of the reasons she despised him was his inability to come up with anything sensible to say. She despised many vampires for this reason. “You clearly haven't met them. Besides, I'm not letting your fangs anywhere near my children. I don't know where they've been.”

Her pointed shoes took a few steps back towards the door, closing it without a touch as her fingers made another snap in its direction, a sigh, almost mirroring his but excluding the sinister, hungry tone, escaping from her lips. “Why should I be out scaring children when I can be in here scaring you?” Her inquiry came with a crooked smile of her painted red lips, her eyes widening a little in her questioning. “And I think that nowadays, said stake is more likely ending up through your heart. If you have one.”

Scare him? A heart? What ridiculous suggestions. Both making Malcolm scoff in disbelief. Disbelief at her _stupidity_. “You haven't got a fuckin' chance. You're not as sinister as you look. And my heart? Oh, that was removed a long time ago, darlin'.”

He stood, knowing he wouldn't feel so on edge if he was taller than her, and walked to the window. Peeking out, Malcolm searched the street for any signs of life. There wasn't any, not in this area. Unlucky for Nicola.

“Anyway, _Nicky_ , I don't know who told you I prefer the blood of a fuckin' virgin. Is it so hard to understand that a broken hymen doesn't cause the blood to taste disgusting? No, to me, blood is like wine. The older it is, the better it tastes.” Malcolm's mouth was watering at the thought of bending his co-worker over his desk, and sucking her dry. He could hear her blood, with the extra _spark_ of a witch, rushing through her veins. Why did she have to be so bloody warm?! Enticing him with her hot, red liquid. Probably what she wanted, the fuckin' bitch.

It was, incidentally, Nicola's intention. She wasn't quite sure if he could tell, so as he spoke she stretched a little, twisting her head over to her right shoulder and accenting the bare skin above the collar of her dress and along the side of her neck. Her ruby lips grinned just a little too widely, delighting in her temptation. He was hungry and she could tell, and it enthralled her far too much to entice that hunger, when he knew perfectly well that it was an impossibility that she would ever let his fangs anywhere near her blood. They'd both known that from the start.

She took long steps on the bridge of her foot towards him, shaking a hand through the short brunette strands of her hair as she shook her head slightly. “I'm begging you not to put the image of you delighting in the blood of some poor old woman like it's fucking Shiraz into my head now.” Her smile morphed into a thin, red curve as her hands sheltered themselves into her arms.

“You really ought to explain things in far greater detail Malcolm.” And then, seeking her chance to torture him in his desire even more, she continued, “so tell me, Malcolm. What type of blood is so irresistible to the undead?”

Malcolm gritted his teeth in frustration. He could have easily snapped her neck and drained her of blood. But he didn't. Not when he could get two of his needs fulfilled from the witch in front of him. He didn't shag corpses, and drinking from them wasn't overly pleasant. Far better to keep her alive. She'd always had a crush on him, it was so painfully _obvious_ when he could hear her heart racing, and he might as well use that to his advantage. He chose not to answer her question. She already knew the answer, and he wasn't prepared to humour her.

 “You look younger. Have you been putting those fine powers to use at last?” Malcolm caught her chin in his grip, quick but not too harsh, tilting her head up so he could get a closer look in the dim light, “not a day over fuckin' thirty...” _Phenomenal. She really does look young,_ “how old are you now, exactly?” He knew that she wasn't at all as young as she made out. Not in her fifties, as he had once teased, or even forties. Nor was he, and neither were looking bad for their respective ages.

“ _Fine_ powers?” Strangely, Nicola took this sentence as a compliment more than the praise he had given relating to her youthful appearance. The latter wasn't so difficult, especially not for one as accomplished as Nicola was prone to believing she was, but to get a vampire of all creatures to call a witches power was anything remotely positive was an achievement lesser realised, not least if said vampire was Malcolm Tucker, the nightmare Nicola knew all too well, “well, you have changed your tune.”  
  
He didn't need to tilt her chin, for even without his guidance she had moved her head into the dim yet sharp light above them, her lips finding the grin they had clung to earlier.

“You should never ask a woman her age, Malcolm.” She teased him lightly, her grin becoming a little too jokingly irritated at his questions. It was a little while before she realised that his grip was still tight against her chin, and her heart began to race a little. It always did, and she knew he could tell. Perhaps that's what he wanted. But in her disgust at having these feelings, slight as they were, towards a vampire she detested in the way she did him, it was certainly not a want of her own.

“Oh, come on... I'm curious and you're looking far too young. How old are you?” _She's got to be the wrong side of 600, at least_. Malcolm was managing not to stare too much at her neck. It was getting harder, but he hoped he could do it. Not stare at the soft, youthful skin... Why _her_? Why was it that his nostrils picked up the scent of her blood more than anyone else's?

“You've left it a little while to question it, haven't you?” He hadn't asked her in the entirety of the time he had known her, and she would have thought that they had avoided the subject entirely. Evidently this wasn't the case. Incidentally, despite her own curiosity she had never asked the vampire his age, either. Which couldn't be too far from her own, could it? “Well, I suppose if you tell me yours, I'll happily return the favour.”

Malcolm merely shrugged, still keeping his grip firm. No, he wouldn't be letting her go anytime soon, “you didn't look so young before. So... _Fresh-faced_.” _So bloody delicious_.

Ah. A predicament. To share his age with the old wench or not. Not that it could do any harm, surely..? “Three hundred and forty-nine. Now share.”

Nicola writhed her head a little in the hope of releasing herself from his grip. No, that was a lie. There wasn't really any hope involved in her meagre attempt. She had done little more than make his grip a little more comfortable, and her grin a little wider at the success of her bargain. “ _Three_ hundred and forty-nine?” _He's younger than me. Shitty bastard. He would be, wouldn't he._ Her lips thinned a little as she kept her side of the bargain, reluctantly, “four hundred and twenty-seven.”

At the revelation Malcolm snorted, and spoke in his Scottish drawl, “my, my. You certainly _are_ an old witch. Made me feel far better about myself.” _That isn't fair. She doesn't look that old at all_ , “and the secret to your youthful appearance? Been eating the hearts of fuckin' stars or somethin'?”

“Well, it's chiefly through drinking a potion made from the blood of a virgin,” Nicola began to joke in her element, hoping that her wide, red curve gave away the fact that this was clearly a joke on her part, “though as you've said there are very few of those around, so I've had to settle for a few unsuspecting children recently. Do you think it's still working as well?” She withheld a chuckle. As if she would tell him her proud secret of her youthful appearance. It was like asking a _normal_ woman what anti-aging cream she used. Extremely impolite, and unlikely to get an answer.

Malcolm stared at the _older_ woman with a completely blank expression. Not even slightly amused by what she thought of as jokes, “you're not funny. I hope you know that.” _Not even slightly. Jesus fuckin' Christ._

“Suit yourself, Malcolm,” she frowned a little then, her gaze snatching away to the ground. She knew she hadn't been hilarious, but she had rather hoped he would crack a smile. Even if perhaps she had gone a little too far...

[Hm. Pulse is _racing_.] [Perfect.] “Isn't James expecting your presence? Or will you simply burst into flames when you think it's time to leave?” _Like the Wicked Witch of the West... She's certainly no fuckin' Glinda. Hotter than the green one, though._

 _James. Fuck. James. Not in the mood, tonight of all nights._ “It's... full moon tonight. I'm avoiding him for as long as possible.” Her head dropped a little, though she stopped she realised his hand was still clenched around her chin. “And we don't _actually_ do that, in fact.” _Do we? I've never tried. That's a thought._

 _James. James, James, James. He's ordinary, isn't he?_ “Wait. Just explain that, will you? You aren't in the mood to go home because it's a full moon. Meaning _what_?” Her comment about witches not being able to burst into flames made Malcolm smirk. She was the witch here, and she didn't even know she was capable of doing that. He'd actually seen it, many years previous.

“Oh, you... you didn't know about James?” She turned her lips in a little to hide the smirk she couldn't quite resist. She hadn't told him. There'd been no reason for her to, after all. “It wasn't difficult to guess...”

Her highly uninformative answer to his question caused him to frown with annoyance. He was _sure_ Nicola wouldn't fall in love with-... Scrap that, she didn't /love/ James. He was sure Nicola wouldn't marry a _werewolf_. Vampires were much more attractive... “Is he..?” Did he need to say any more? He didn't think so, so he simply trailed off. She'd understand.  

“Yes, Malcolm. Yes he is.” Of course, he hadn't thought to tell her this fact _before_ they got married. It would probably have put her off him, so just as well. Not that she shouldn't have been put off by the rest of his features, but it took her a little while to realise that, “is there a problem with that fact?”

The sudden news that her husband was, in fact, a creature which Malcolm despised made his jaw drop. “Are you... Are you fuckin' serious?” _I dislike witches. Leprechauns are little shits. But werewolves take the fuckin' biscuit. Quite literally. Greedy, thieving cunts._ “Oh, just a little bit of a fuckin' issue! What if he goes on a fuckin' killing spree tonight, you stupid wench! Then what the fuck are you gonna do?!” _Her kids. She really is a crap mother._ “Where's the fuckin' shitty foursome?”

Her twisted smile faltered dramatically at his words as she finally, albeit disappointingly, wrenched her head away from his grasp. “What should it matter to you, anyway? You've got on with your little undead _life_... perhaps not the right word... for quite a while without knowing the fact, and it hasn't affected you yet.” Her smile returned, ever so slightly, to her ruby lips as she answered his incessant questions. “James has killed _one_ person in the entire time I've known him.” _And part of me, too. But that's not the point._ “I'm fairly sure I've killed more people than he has. And the children are at mums. 'Monthly visit to Gran's',” she quoted her two fingers in the air as she spoke, “did you really think we wouldn't have this sorted out?”

“Yes.” Malcolm didn't even hesitate, answering her as if it was obvious. “Wait. Who the fuck as he killed? Who the fuck have _you_ killed?!” _I'm not one to talk... Oh, fuck off, conscience. I get hungry._ Malcolm was, in fact, relieved to hear Nicola's children would be okay. Her career would be completely fucked otherwise. _I need to get a move on. Fuckin' starving..._

“That's not a question I'm going to answer. Neither of them. James' murders are his fucking business. And it's been four hundred years for me. I've been through a lot.” She didn't think she needed to elaborate any further, her hands slipping into her pockets as she stared blankly at him.

There was no fucking way she was getting away from that. Malcolm growled with disapproval as she failed to give him a proper answer, and took a menacing step towards the small minister.  
"Fuck James. Not literally, obviously. But right now he isn't important. _You_ , on the other hand... Now that does interest me. So you can be a good lass and tell me who you fuckin' murdered, or I can do some extremely painful things to you. And the bloody kids."  
Surely that would make her talk? Her children. Her dear children. _Why has it taken her this long to fuckin' reproduce? Oh. James is probably only young. I smell a cougar…_

With each sinister step he took towards her, Nicola took a step back, almost shrinking in the fear she desperately tried not to show. There was no point. He would smell it on her, she knew that. She also knew what he was capable of, what every vampire was capable of, which did frighten her a little more than it should. “You wouldn't hurt the kids. Vampires have morals, principles. Even you,” she could have said that with a little more conviction, but her dry throat wouldn't allow it, “and as for me...” Leaning forward a little as she spoke, she spat the words out of her lips, “do your worst.”

"You know, dear, on a hierarchy of power witches are far lower than vampires. As are werewolves. I'm superior to you, and you fuckin' know it. I can _smell_ your fear, for fuck's sake. You're lower than your mother's pelvic fuckin' floor, that's how low you are." Malcolm placed a hand on her arm. Not slowly, either. Vampires were often seen to be fast, in movies and TV shows. It wasn't a _complete_ exaggeration. Malcolm, like any other vampire, _could_ be fast. “Tell me. Or I'll snap your fuckin' neck, cut up your body and send the pieces to your family every full fuckin' moon. Your choice."

Nicola was scared. No, that was an understatement. She was beyond scared. She was terrified. Never before, in all her four hundred and twenty seven years, had she been unnerved by a _vampire_ , but when she could feel Malcolm's grip on her arm, probably seeming far tighter in her nervous state, she could see all her worst fears far more clearly. Not that she was going to give in to him, of course. She wasn't going to make it easy for him, “I don't believe you,” her gaze fell away from his, focusing on the points of her shoes as she continued, “if you kill me then you'll _never_ know. And you can't stand not knowing.”

Slowly, in contrast to his previous action, Malcolm let his hand move up, over her shoulder, to her neck. "I would _love_ to watch you die more... I can find out who you've killed without you telling me, anyway. So don't think for a second that I wouldn't kill _you_."

In all honesty, Malcolm wasn't sure anymore. He knew he had the ability to send anyone to their grave, if he so wished. But Nicola? The idiotic, if slightly lovable, MP? She was a witch, so he wasn't overly fond of her. She was beautiful, so he didn't completely hate her. She didn't need to know that.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this isn't a chapter. I'd love to continue this ASAP (MenOnWaves) and it'll probably just be me. I don't know. Depends if my darling will join me in finishing this.  
> So! Leave in the comments what you'd like to happen between Malcolm and Nicola.  
> Anything that's, y'know, not completely fucking disgustingly creepy.  
> Thanks!

*****N/A*****

**Author's Note:**

> Abrupt end. Sorry! This is only part one. Again, sorry for every single mistake made. All will be fixed in time.


End file.
